the nakedness of prisons, and the privation of everything most essential to life, this utter destitution made my heart shrink. I turned round to lean my head against the wall, and two enormous chains, suspended from the iron bar, caught my eye. At the idea that I might be fastened to that bar, and prevented from even scrambling up to the window to inhale a mouthful of fresh air, a cold shudder ran through my frame.

To divert my mind from this horrible thought, I made an attempt to reach the opening which was the object of all my wishes. But my short and heavy fetters rendered this so extremely difficult, that, in spite of the greatest efforts, I was at last compelled to renounce the hope of that solace. Exhausted by fatigue, and overcome by grief, I seated myself on my couch, vainly striving to keep my eyes from gazing on those chains, which, after cramping the death struggles of some former victim, were now destined perhaps for me.

These melancholy forebodings were interrupted by the entrance of a prisoner, unknown to me, named Colonel A; from which it appeared I was to have a companion. Shortly afterwards an old man, named Schiller, one of the turnkeys, entered, carrying two iron porringers in his hands, and a loaf of black bread under his arm. Having set them down, he made me a signal to eat.

"What!" exclaimed I; "is this to be our fare? Soup garnished with lumps of tallow!-beans cooked in salt and water! Cold, too!" I added, after having tasted two or three, and spat them out again. "It would take the stomach of an ostrich to digest these stones!" I spoke as if the old man could underHe only laughed at my gestures; and, taking a long knife from his pocket, he gravely cut the bread in two, giving each of us his moiety; then wishing us a good appetite, left the cell.

stand me.

Dinner, our only repast for the day, was before us; but we could not, in spite of all our resolution, conquer the repugnance which the vile odour of these dishes, and the filthiness of the porringers, caused in us. Hunger alone forced us afterwards to touch some portion of this detestable food. The narrowness of the cell prevented my walking; which I seriously felt, after the twenty days' constraint I had endured during the journey. I was compelled to throw myself, without undressing, on the hard and scanty pallet which formed my bed. The whole night was passed without rest; or, if I did for a moment drop into a slumber, I was soon roused by a clanking of chains, which seemed to proceed from the bowels of the earth. The deep gloom in which we were immured, and the shrill, prolonged cries of the sentinels, who shouted forth every quarter of an hour, produced on my mind a horrible dream. I shuddered with dread; a cold perspiration covered my body; every limb seemed paralysed. I broke through this nightmare by a convulsive effort, and in so doing,

fell upon the floor. The colonel, who was lying at his ease on the mattress he had been indulged with, awoke with the noise, and appeared to be affected by my condition.

At daybreak Schiller entered with a breakfast worthy of the dinner-consisting of some water, in which floated a few grains of roasted barley. A short time afterwards I was obliged to relinquish my apparel, in exchange for the uniform of the prison. It consisted of a jacket, half gray, half brown; and waistcoat and pantaloons, open on each side to admit our chains, one leg gray, the other brown-a knave of clubs kind of dress, calculated to prevent every chance of escape to the wearer. The cloth and stockings were of the coarsest quality; and so likewise were the heavy boots, which completed our attire. Linen, cravats, handkerchiefs, all were taken from us: we possessed not a single relic of our former condition. It was an alleviation, however, of all this indignity, to find that the hair of the prisoners was not to be shorn, like that of the galley-slaves of Toulon or Brest; and even the deathblow given to hope by the act of rivetting fresh fetters on the legs, was mitigated by the tidings that, thus manacled, the captives would be permitted half an hour's daily exercise in the open air on a platform of the fortress.

This platform was about ten feet long by eight broad. Like the prison we occupied, it had a northerly exposure, and almost entirely surrounded by walls so high, that for six months of the year not a beam of the sun could reach it. Its aspect was dismal-its atmosphere bleak. Save two or three rose-trees crawling over the wall, and a breast-high peep over the vast panorama beneath, there was nothing to cheer or enliven the prospect.

Here, then, began my long and hopeless confinement. Day followed day without incident. It was a living death. Even, however, in the gloom and misery of my dungeon, there was scope for mental cultivation and the exercise of the affections. One of my early and most welcome solaces was that derived from occasional and brief intercourse with sharers of my captivitySilvio Pellico and Maroncelli-the account of whose sufferings has already been laid before the world. One day an old convict, whose office it was to bring and remove the provisions, placed under a jug a small parcel, to which a glance of his eye directed my attention. The door closed: I hurried to gain the packet: it contained a vial of reddish liquid, the stump of a pen, and a letter worded nearly as follows:

"We are ignorant of your names, but your misfortunes and ours are the same, and on this ground we address you. Let us know who you are. Tell us about Italy-about everything. During the two years that we have been here, no news has reached us. Write without fear, and quickly; for we are anxious to hear by what fatal destiny you, like us, have been buried at Spielberg."

""Tis from Pellico," I exclaimed, full of joy and emotion at

this generous appeal from a man of whom Confalonieri spoke with the utmost warmth of esteem. When I took up the pen to answer him, I felt as if I were writing to an old friend, whom Heaven had restored to me. In a subsequent letter he wrote"God will recompense you for your devotedness and resignation. Put your confidence in Him. You will again see your country and family; for you are young, and political sentences, though for life, are not always perpetual. I wish that I had the same hope for Confalonieri."

Of my noble friend Confalonieri I had heard nothing for some time. At length he was introduced to my cell, and I was told he was henceforth to be my companion, instead of the person who had been previously with me. The joy I felt at this intelligence was materially lessened, when he informed me that all hope of mitigation in his fate had vanished, in consequence of his refusal to criminate his acquaintances.

I attempted to infuse some hope into him by speaking of his countess, and the happy days he would yet spend with her; but he stopped me immediately, saying, "I can no longer indulge in illusions: my fate is irrevocably fixed. Here my life will end, while my unfortunate Theresa will consume hers in tears."

Revived by having once more congenial companionship, we resumed our former habits of life. Spring crept on; the days were becoming longer; and we could devote more time to reading the few books allowed us. The kind count would overcome his sorrow and sufferings, to teach me to profit by his wisdom and experience. Light shone upon my mind; my opinions became more settled; and I thanked God for having given me a friend so great in heart and knowledge. I stretched myself on my straw, not to court sleep, but to reflect on what I had heard; and, in spite of the irons which loaded my body, my mind took flight, and found enjoyments of which kings and the rich are ignorant. More elevated ideas took possession of my heart, and I became prepared to sacrifice all, and forget all, save the dear ones to whom I had cost so many tears.

[Saddened by the increasing illness of Confalonieri, which threw a damp over their mutual studies, a pleasing incident came to the relief of the monotony of Andrayne's existence, in the arrival of an old comrade in affliction, left behind ill at Milan, from whose communications through the wall the fate of his former companion was ascertained-Rinaldini (the light-hearted Brescian, and sharer of his cell) having been sentenced to two years' imprisonment. From Tonelli they also learned the more generally interesting tidings of the death of Byron, whose fall in the cause of freedom came home to the hearts of the captives.

About this period the prisoners endured a great misfortune, in the removal of the clergyman who conducted the religious duties of the prison. He was an amiable man, much respected by the

unfortunate Italians, in whose fate he sympathised. His successor, Don Stephano, was a man of a different stamp-cunning and hypocritical-a miserable tool of the despot from whom he had received his appointment. Under the mask of religious adviser, his duty was to worm secrets from the prisoners, and induce them to relate to him the particulars of the schemes in which they were supposed to have been engaged. At first Andrayne and his companions felt pleased with the attentions of this infamous parasite; but afterwards suspecting and becoming assured of his worthlessness, they treated him with the indifference and scorn that his character deserved. It was found to be a relief when Don Stephano left them for the winter to attend the court of the emperor, with whom he pretended to have considerable influence.

Meanwhile, Andrayne's sister did not desist from her efforts to procure his release. Hearing that the emperor of Austria was about to visit Milan, she repaired thither. The nature of her exertions may be best learned from the following entries in her diary :

"Milan, May 10, 1825.—We are at length at the end of our journey, and it seems like a dream to me that I should be again in this town, the scene to me of so much suffering. I this morning paid a visit to Count Partha, and was shown into the little room so well known to me. I seated myself on the same sofa on which I was informed of the sentence passed on my poor brother. What harrowing emotions had I not suffered there! May 19.-Learning this morning from our ambassador that Prince Metternich would receive me if I called on him, I proceeded to his house, invoking Heaven to inspire me with words which should touch him. Encouraged by the kindness which beamed from the prince's countenance, I said, in a tone which came from my soul, ‘Will you interest yourself for a poor heartbroken woman who relies upon you?'

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‘I have promised the archbishop of Paris, madam,' said the prince, taking my hand, and leading me to a seat by his side, 'to use all my interest for you; and be assured I will keep my word. The Duke d'Angoulême has also strongly spoken in behalf of your brother. But it is the maxim of our sovereign always to be master in his own realms, and not suffer any potentate in Europe to intrude on what passes within them.'”

Great as was this rebuff, the devoted sister did not give up all hope, until she learned from the Countess Confalonieri that there was at present no likelihood of mercy being extended to the captives. Prejudiced by the cruel misrepresentations of the priest Stephano, and full of the supposed necessity for making examples, the emperor would only concede that Andrayne, when sufficiently corrected, should be again restored to the world; and that in the meantime his family should have, every six months, a bulletin of his health.

When the wretch Stephano returned, it was to tantalise Andrayne by fresh assurances, that if he had furnished him with the revelations he tried to extort, his sister would have succeeded in obtaining his pardon: and henceforth the prisoner's contumacy, as it was called, was to be overcome by the withdrawal of every little comfort hitherto derived from books, all of which the most precious possession of the captive, one ill-selected volume of devotion by a Jesuit, furnished by the priest, exceptedwere reluctantly, at his avowed suggestion, confiscated by the governor of Moravia.

The winter which ensued was felt severely by the prisoners, whose hands were swollen by the frost. Against the intenseness of the cold no provision was made by artificial heat, nor by clothing. The dress, which was the same as in the middle of summer, consisted only of a scanty jacket, and a thin and tattered pair of trousers. Hunger, too, added its pangs to other physical evils; and but for vague hopes, resting on the rude kindness of Schiller, who often brought, hidden under his greatcoat, a porringer of potatoes, the stoutest spirits would have sunk under the hardships of the severe winter of 1825-6.

The loss of Schiller, whom the suspicions of Don Stephano caused to be removed from his post, and whose soldier-spirit not long after sunk under the disgrace and vexation, was a cruel blow to the prisoners. But the malice of their disappointed tormentor had devised a more dreadful revenge, in the separation of Andrayne from his beloved Confalonieri, now more than ever in need of his attentions, and giving him for a companion Judge S-, an indulged informer, whose duty consisted in ferreting information from the prisoners with whom he was put. The plan of resorting to such mean devices, marks the baseness to which the ministers of a despotic government are driven in the execution of their functions. In the case of Andrayne, this spy system was of little avail. He was aware of the character who had been thrust upon him, and was guarded in all his movements and observations. The reserve of Andrayne convinced Sthat he was suspected of treachery, and this roused in him the most vengeful sentiments. One day, when almost stifled with the air of the cell, Andrayne attempted to open the window; S rushed at him with fury, and they nearly came to blows. At length S was removed, to the great joy of his companion, who danced with exultation at the thought of being no longer under restraint. Some time after, he had the pleasure of being restored to the cell and company of Confalonieri.

Hopes of escape now intruded themselves; and these in time ceased to be absolutely chimerical, as, thanks to the countess, Confalonieri had been furnished with means for it; and he only postponed his flight from a lameness of Andrayne, which prevented his accompanying him. The idea, however, was finally given up, from the noble fear of compromising those involved